


Honeybee

by srididdledeedee



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied Character Death, Other, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12782226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srididdledeedee/pseuds/srididdledeedee
Summary: Loki had hated everyone, and then he hadn't.  It was as simple as that.  Wasn't it?





	1. Chapter 1

He didn't always hate people. Of course not, that would be ridiculous. But one thing led to another and suddenly he was hated by everyone. Was he still a child at the time? He couldn't remember. If he was a child, then maybe it wasn't his fault. That was something Midgardians believed. The innocence of children.

So, no, he didn't always hate people. There was a time he enjoyed others and their company. Others like his family. His mother. His brother. His –

No.

The Allfather.

There was a period of not-hate, and then a long period of hate. Such a long, long era. He thought he would always hate people for a time.

He hated them all for a long while.

And then he didn't.

His mother was the easiest. She never gave up on him, not like the others. She always believed in the good in him, even when it wasn't there. Foolish, unconditional love. Yet he was grateful for it. He wished he had appreciated it more before she had gone to Valhalla. Maybe he would have felt better.  
  
Stark – Anthony – was the next. That was a surprise, and it wasn't. Anthony was the same as him. Magic or science. Magic and science. That was them: they had been “Stark” (curtly) and “Reindeer Games” (teasing) until they were “Anthony and Loki,” and even “TonyandLoki.”

(He wouldn't dwell on Anthony too long.)

He was forced to give up his hatred of Odin when the Allfather pooled himself into sunlight and dust and blew himself all the way to Valhalla. It was by no means immediate. But gradually, he worked his way to accepting the good Odin had done for him. He had dwelt on the bad for so long. It was poisoning him from the inside. Of course, it helped that Anthony (Stark, stop it, _stop it_ ) and Banner had listened to him.

Banner, he had come to stop hating around the same time he gave up his hate of the Allfather. He and Banner also came to an understanding. It was a friendship, and only after he had come to terms with his own psychological state. It wasn't unfamiliar for him to hate someone because he feared them – take Thor, take Odin fucking Allfather. What was unfamiliar was the knowledge that the thing (the Hulk, the beast in Banner) would not hesitate to kill him. That so base a creature could immediately and unconditionally hate him.

Banner had helped some with that. Banner was not unkind. Banner helped him with Thor.

Ah, yes. Thor.

He came to terms with Thor as well. It took too long. Thor wouldn't listen, so eventually he wouldn't speak to him. When they would speak, it would bounce between the brotherly banter he had missed _(he had missed it so much, he missed being Thor’s equal, he missed when Thor didn't care about public appearance and social expectations)_ and shouting matches. Thor, son of Odin Allfather. Thor, who matched the Allfather in appearance down to the godforsaken eyepatch.

But.

Thor was there for him when Banner couldn't be. When Anthony (when Stark, when _Stark_ ) couldn't.

And Thor was there for him when Stark…

He should have known better than to love another mortal. He made the mistake, over and over again. A blink of the eye and Stark was gone.

Loki had hated no one. Then he had hated everyone. And finally, he had hated no one once again.

No one but himself.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Drifting. Floating. Not falling, never falling.

Just….there.

Valhalla was remarkably peaceful. Calming. No wonder it was where souls went to rest.

Golden mist passed him by. It was all golden. It could have been Odin Allfather. It could have been who he was searching for. He traced his fingers through it.

Most likely, it was just an unfamiliar soul.

(He felt empty.)

God of Mischief. God of Lies. Loki the Unloved.

Loki the Once-Loved.

Loki the Searching-For-His-Love-Please-Anthony-If-You’re-Here-Tell-Me.

This time, if ( _when_ ) he found Anthony, he'd give him the golden apples. No Midgardian curse would take him away again.

The mist glittered around him. Maybe it sensed he didn't belong. Asgardians, Midgardians, even Vanir were collected in Valhalla. He guaranteed he was the first and only Jotun to step foot in the halls.

Then again, he could almost guarantee he was the first and only being to put his feet in the halls, seeing as he wasn't dead.

It was what it was. He didn't dwell that when Thor died he would go to Valhalla, or when Tony died again he would return and Loki would be stuck living a cold existence and then thrown to Helheim.

(It was what it was. It was what it would ever be.)

“Don't think so lowly of yourself, Reindeer Games.”

He was crying, but he smiled. “You're an ass.”

The golden mist was a familiar body, a familiar smell, a familiar pair of arms wrapping around him from behind.

He wiped at his eyes. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dont forget to leave a comment for the author (that's me)


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